Hate
by Wheezambu
Summary: Very dark and twisted take on Inuyasha's parents. You won't like it at all if you like romance or happy endings. No fluff at all here!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I actually wrote this like a year and half ago, just found it again! I might continue it, but for now, this all I have.**

She hated her life.

At seventeen, hate was the only emotion she felt free to feel. At fifteen, a rival warlord had overrun her father's estate, she'd watched as her younger brothers were slaughtered while her mother wept. As her mother was too old to be useful, they killed her as well.

And Izayoi hated them.

At sixteen, she was sold to a brothel and learned that all men were to be hated. She despised the rough hands that touched her, the stink of their dirty bodies. She hated the way they grunted and groaned when they used her, made her as dirty as them.

Three times the brothel's mistress had given her herbs. Three times she'd lain alone in her tiny room and sobbed as the blood trickled from between her legs. Izayoi prayed each time that the bleeding would never stop, that she'd be found cold and stiff in the morning. Her heart had died some time ago, only her body was too foolish to stop living.

At seventeen, she'd lost all hope of escaping. She'd tried several times to run away, only to be caught and beaten for her disobedience. They never marked her face, but her body had been covered in livid bruises for weeks. As punishment, she'd been given to the worst customers, the ones that liked to hear a woman cry.

Izayoi cried when they hurt her and begged them to stop. But they never did.

So it was in hate and pain she went to him that first time, kneeling with downcast eyes as a rough, clawed hand touched her hair. She shivered, wished that a kindly god would strike her down before she was forced to endure this. He was a demon and Izayoi's stomach burned with fear and disgust.

"Pretty child," he said in a lazy, deep voice that held no pity. "This night will be long for you, but I promise if you please me I will buy you and take you away from this brothel."

Izayoi resolved not to please him. She glanced up and saw the demon had eyes of gold, bright as the sun. He was beautiful, but she already knew he wasn't a gentle creature, or a kind one. His armor looked well used and the scent of blood and death clung to him. She knew better than to resist. They liked it when she fought.

Silently, she slipped her kimono from her shoulders and closed her eyes. She heard the rustle of cloth and knew he was undressing, but she didn't want to look at him. A hard hand pushed her back, pressed her knees apart.

"What is your name, girl?" he asked, a claw tracing her cheekbone.

Izayoi turned her face away as the demon's mouth descended to her throat. "What does it matter?" she whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hate 02  
**

She found out that he was a demon of his word and when he made a promise, he intended to keep it. Izayoi had resolved not to please him, to let her mind fade away into that darkened room. Far from her ears, she didn't hear the rough sounds he made. She became as water within his arms, floated past his body. The girl drifted in and out of consciousness, but the demon didn't mind.

By dawn she had faded into nothingness, but he had already decided what road her life would take from now on. His road. His way. He took her from the brothel with a harsh laugh, tossing currency at the greedy mistress. She was thrown across his broad shoulders, lifting her frightened eyes to the woman who'd sold her. Hate flowed like acid from her heart, but the tears were only salt on her cheeks.

Izayoi found out that her new lord was curious breed of creature. His hair was thick and silky, like an animal's pelt in some ways, but also much like a man's. He never asked her name again, she had a feeling he'd known it from the beginning. His body was hotter than a man's, almost uncomfortably so. Forced to lie close to him in the night, Izayoi wondered if he found her sweat offensive.

He did. And although they traveled with an army of monsters, the first thing she'd learned was that he expected her to bathe often. She had little else to do, he had absolutely nothing to say to her otherwise. Only that she bathed when water was brought to her tent, that she ate what was given to her and kept to herself.

Obedience was not a problem. She'd learned it long ago from the men who'd owned her, even for an hour, they'd owned her obedience. Don't meet his eyes, don't question. Don't speak unless spoken to. She was so frightened of him and yet she held herself still with all the practice of her short life. Being made a whore had made her understand that whatever happened to her, she had no say in anything.

But she had hate. She had a burning sickness in the pit of her belly. During the day, if the army was encamped, she spent her hours staring at nothing. She refused to fear, it occupied all her energy to continue with hate. And hate was a whore herself, seducing away the fear and bribing away the pain. Izayoi had little else to think of, only to brood on the hours as if by gnawing them with her teeth she might force them to submit.

He came to her in the night, usually smelling of blood. It was rank and made her sick, the many colors of that blood horrified her. Her mother had told stories of foul youkai, terrible creatures of nightmares. They'd steal babies from their cradles, they'd eat livestock and make waters taste rancid. Crops went bad because of youkai, evil spirits would make men mad.

And she lie beneath the most horrible of them all, his body heavier than it looked. It hurt each and every time, but she bit her lips and refused to cry out. She knew it didn't matter, he wasn't trying to hurt her, but that was the way it had to be. Gentleness wasn't something he understood. He'd stare right into her eyes, his expression half-bored, half intense as he worked himself inside.

And Izayoi would bury her face in his shoulder and gasp, her fingers digging into impossibly hard muscles while the demon drove inside her. Sometimes her eyes were full of light, like golden sun and sometimes all she could see was darkness. Strangely, he'd hold her until the darkness eased, never speaking. Her pulse raced when he held her, her body tired and aching, but strangely relieved.

His embrace was harder to endure than his desire. All she had left that was her own was her hatred, her thirst for revenge. It blinded her, this rage that made her insides quail and turn to ice. Spoils of war, her family's blood had been spilled just for spoils. And she was one of those spoils, one of those treasures taken in violence.

Now she belonged to another victor. Another swordsman cut apart her life, left her splayed helplessly on the rocks. But deep inside, her hate became the echo to her heartbeat, the pulse beneath her skin. He offered her all she could want, vast scopes of resentment and silent apathy. He would drag her from battlefield to battlefield until he tired of her and Izayoi resolved herself to endure even a demon's bed.

Someday he would tire of her, then she might be free. If she were free, she might find a way to live with what had been done to her. Or the courage to take her own life. She only hoped to be so lucky as to die by her own hand.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hate 03**

She didn't ask his name, but she knew he was someone important. Izayoi might have wished to be ignorant, but it was not so. Instead his soldiers sought him out when he was inside her tent and every time she just lay still as a mouse and pretended they were only nightmares and would fade at dawn.

What they thought of her, she didn't care to know. Some of them slid their eyes to hers before she could look away, some of them looked amused. More often they didn't seem to see her at all. She was just what their lord used to relieve himself, having no more importance than that.

And she knew her time with him would be short. Early in her captivity, she'd made the mistake of straying outside her tent. A grizzled looking demon set outside to guard her had laughed, waving a spear in her direction.

"Get back inside, girlie. You know you aren't to wander."

"I want to see the sun," she'd whispered fearfully.

He only grinned toothlessly at her. "Disobey him once and you'll be given to someone else," the old monster leered. "And your time is short enough. He likes pretty things, but he doesn't keep them for very long."

She took the hint and retreated, nursing hatred in her breast like a mother would nurse a babe. Izayoi knew what he meant. She would die soon and that was fine with her. A mortal woman wouldn't live for very long under this demon's touch. And when he grew bored, she'd be disposed of and another would take her place.

So she was surprised when he came to her in the day, as she sat waiting for her hair to dry after one of her many baths. Without comment, he grabbed her arm and dragged her from the tent. Izayoi's heart pounded in her chest with anticipation, she'd been longing for her death for some time now. But it wasn't to be that day for he had something else in mind.

The demon took her to a hilltop, the cold wind tearing at her hair and inadequate clothing. Izayoi shivered and tried not to cling to his warmth, but it was all she could do to stay on her feet. Wondering, she stared down at a human settlement, a lord's estate to guess by the size. Bright banners fluttered in the wind and she could see people going about their business, unaware they were being stalked by a demon's eyes.

"What do you see, girl?"

She felt blood rushing in her ears and her knees turned to jelly. Those pennants and banners, they meant something. She'd seen them before. Hatred swelled within her like a lover, made her dizzy with want. This was the home of the warlord who had slaughtered her family, sent her into a life of abuse and rape. Those men, those people…her fury made her unable to speak. Instead she burned colder, her breath steaming in the frosty air.

"You wish them destroyed?" he whispered, his lips only inches from her ear.

Izayoi couldn't answer; she was frozen where she stood, like a statue carved from hate. She could see her father as he was cut down, her younger brothers butchered with ease. The sobbing of her mother as she begged them for mercy, the rough hands of the soldiers as they stripped her mother bare before carving her up. And she'd watched it all, unable to move, as she was unable to move now.

"I'll kill them for you," the demon lord promised, his eyes glowing as he stared at her. "I'll want something in return."

What could he want from her that he hadn't already taken? His words slipped over her, barely touching her skin and she suddenly found the strength to answer.

"Anything," she whispered. "Anything you want."

With that, he transformed into a monstrous dog-like beast and charged down the hill. Izayoi held her breath, fascinated, as the humans ran and screamed. The great lord tore them apart with ease, shattering buildings with his massive claws, bright human blood running from his fangs to soak into his snowy fur. She stood silent and watched as her master devoured children, old women and ripped the warlord's men to pieces.

Something built inside her as she watched the carnage, warmth that spread from the pit of her stomach to her groin. It was pleasure, something she had never felt before. For all the men that had touched her, used her, violated her body with their disgusting desires…she'd never thought to feel anything but pain. Now she slowly dropped to her knees, uncaring of the hard, cold ground, and trembled as the pleasure became waves that rolled over her body, one after another.

Presently, she became aware that the rampage had ended and he was standing over her with blood still dripping from his claws. He reached for her, pulled her to her feet and ran his stained fingers down her face. His touch left crimson markings on her cheeks that mirrored his own.

"What kind of a woman comes from watching slaughter?" he asked, his whisper intimate as a murder. Izayoi shivered, chilled to the bone and hid her face behind her hair. She couldn't find it in her to be ashamed, but the hard knot of hatred that had bound her heart seemed to have loosened momentarily.

He pushed her hair away so that she could look at him, see his eyes glitter in the dying sunlight. Smiling like evil itself, he answered his own question before kissing her chastely on the lips.

"That kind of woman is you. Which is why you will do what I ask and bear me a son."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hate 04 **

She was shaking so hard that she couldn't walk, the horror of what she'd promised him had made even her ever-present hatred fade. A child? Of all the things she'd feared, this fate was by far the worst. Being mortal, she hadn't thought this demon would want his blood to cross with hers. And she hadn't thought about a pregnancy.

In all honesty, she hadn't expected to live long enough to endure that.

He spoke not a word to her, carrying her down the hill in silence. Izayoi kept her eyes closed, not wanting to see the leers and grins of the soldiers as their lord walked among them. The trembling died away, leaving her numb and she didn't so much as cry out when he reached her tent and dumped her unceremoniously onto her pallet.

"Do what you're told," he said, his voice stern and uncompromising. "That's all I expect from you for now."

She was left alone with her fears for some time. Izayoi swung from hatred to terror more times than she could count, staring at the shadowy walls of her tent as the hours slid by. A demon's child within her body, forced to give birth to some half-breed monster. Izayoi cursed softly, having no energy left for sobs or wails.

It would not happen. Until now, she'd been too cowardly, too fearful. She'd accepted her weakness like she'd accepted her own violation countless times. Now with her master's plans lying over her heart like a shroud of the dead, she couldn't afford to be weak any longer.

Inside her tent, there was a place where the ground cloth didn't quite meet the wall, a thin sliver of hard earth. Izayoi started to dig at the ground with her bare fingertips. She'd managed to steal a small knife and hide it away. Not that it would be much use against someone like him, but it was sharp.

Sharp enough to slit her throat.

Her fingers were cold when she lifted the dirty blade. There would be no honor in her suicide, she was aware that the time had long since passed for honor. All she could do now was to end her life before being forced to give birth to an abomination. Whispering, eyes closed, she raised the blade to her throat.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Izayoi dropped the knife, cringing away from a blow that didn't come. She waited for punishment, sure that it would be swift and vicious. Her heart was pounding so hard she couldn't think, but she felt hatred building for the one who had caught her before she could drive the blade into her throat.

Kneeling, he picked up her pathetic little blade and she heard a dark chuckle. "Death won't save you, little girl," the man said. "You haven't been with him long enough to realize that."

She looked up, seeing a young man's lean face. She knew him as one of her master's most trusted men and flinched away from his cold eyes. His skin was pale, tinted almost green in certain lights, but she'd never heard exactly what kind of demon he was. Izayoi watched as he turned the blade over, his claws tracing over the tip that had so nearly pierced her skin.

"He carries a sword that cuts death," he commented. "If you kill yourself now, he'll only bring you back and punish you for your insolence. Little girl, you'll find out that there are worse things than death. Much worse things."

Quietly, he reached for her numb hands, tucking the blade between them. Her mouth was dry, her tongue felt too thick to speak. Her words were hardly more than a croak, but she forced them out just the same.

"Why did you stop me?" she husked. "What do you care if he punishes me? I want…I need to die."

He stared at her for a long moment before looking away. "I don't care if you die or not, but he'd be an utter bastard for me to deal with. Wait for your time, human. He will kill you soon enough."

She heard the truth of his words and felt his bitterness. So not all of his men were loyal, serving him in fear just as she submitted to him in fear. Hate bubbled in her chest, warmth not unlike what she'd experienced when she'd watched the slaughter the men who'd destroyed her family. Slowly, Izayoi slid the knife into her sleeve and faced her lord's man.

"You hate him too," she whispered, intuition like a flash in her mind. "You died and he brought you back, same as he would have done to me."

Surprise flickered in his eyes, surprise and loathing. "Yes," he hissed, his bitter hatred slipping between his lips like a striking snake. "I hate him far more than you ever will, little girl. And I will see him destroyed long after your life has ended. You'll die a whore in his bed, but at least take comfort in the fact that he won't live forever."

He stood up and went to the door, the hatred in his face melting until it slipped beneath a mask of obedience. She would wear that mask herself, for now. The dog lord had given her a taste of what revenge could be and Izayoi knew that she wouldn't be satisfied with death anymore.

She wanted him to watch as the son she'd borne for him died by her hands.

"What is your name?" she called out as he left. She might mean nothing to him, but to know she had an ally in hatred at least gave her strength.

He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing. Then he smiled wryly. "My real name is something I've forgotten, but it doesn't matter anymore."

"You may call me Ryuukossei."


	5. Chapter 5

**Hate 05**

The dragon Ryuukossei left her alone with her resentments and her fears, as well as the bitter tang of revenge in her throat. Izayoi didn't care what had brought him here, or why his hatred seemed to rival her own. She set herself to loathing the way a man set himself to a familiar path, one well-traveled enough to walk in utter darkness.

At dusk, the flap of her tent was shoved aside and two silent women visited her. Well trained to silence herself, Izayoi didn't comment as they began to prepare her bath. She turned her face away from them as if she were lady of this place, instead of captive and whore. She didn't speak to them and they would leave as soon as they were done with their work.

Izayoi cried out, her voice shrill and sharp when one of the women seized her. Her arm was nearly wrenched from her shoulder by the rough handling, her protests ignored as they stripped her body. Panicking, she fought back as she had never done before, finally catching one's chin with a small fist.

The side of her face exploded in pain and Izayoi found herself on the ground again, unable to move or even think. The youkai woman had struck her viciously and Izayoi cringed, covering her face with her arms. She was to be beaten; she had been beaten many times. The first was by one of the soldiers that had murdered her family. He had dragged her outside by her hair and kissed her, she had slapped his face in response.

He'd beaten her so badly that blood streamed from her mouth and nose, hitting her long after she'd stopped fighting him. Then he'd raped her and blood had run from other places as well, leaving her stunned, clutching what was left of her clothes to her ruined purity. It had only taken him two minutes to tear away her virginity and soil her with his seed, but she'd ached for days afterward, wearing her bruises like indigo and violet shame on her skin.

"Don't," one of the women said, stopping the other from striking her again. "Humans are weak, you'll kill her. He wants her tonight."

Rough hands lifted her and Izayoi let her mind go away. She scarcely noticed as the women scrubbed her, cleansing away her filthy human scent. Afterwards, they rubbed her with oils to further mask her, making her sweet to youkai noses.

The women wrapped her in a blanket and half dragged, half carried her from her tent. Izayoi kept her eyes closed, not wanting to see the leers of the males who were watching. They knew what she was; they could tell by her scent that she had just been made presentable for their lord to fuck.

But she'd never been to his tent, not to the place where he ruled over his army. Her knees were shaking, realizing that tonight was meant to be something special, something different. He didn't stay with her after sex, instead only embracing her for as long as it took for him to come. For which she was grateful…most nights.

The inside of his tent was dim, only lit by sweet oil lamps and the rugs felt plush beneath her bare toes. Thick incense burned, filling the air with a rich smoke that made Izayoi's head spin. Even her hatred left her then, blotted out by the intoxicating scent. Her mind was floating somewhere far from her body, pillowed by clouds of ether.

They women clothed her in fine silks, layers of them until her body felt weighed down. She'd never seen such finery before. This was not clothing suited for a whore or even a courtesan of a noble lord.

It was worthy of a princess.

Then she was forced to sit, the priceless silks billowing around her as the women combed and plaited her hair. They pinned it back from her face with jeweled combs, drawing it up so the waves swung loose over her shoulders like twin banners of night.

Izayoi closed her eyes as they painted her face until her skin glowed like snow under silver moonlight. They tinted her lips and darkened her lashes until her eyes appeared as luminous pools. Finally, after a brief, tense discussion between her attendants, they carefully drew a narrow, rose-colored stripe on each cheek before painting a blue crescent on her forehead.

What was she supposed to be?

"Almost perfect," a soft voice said, answering her unspoken question.

The women bowed as they left, but the demon lord and his human girl hardly noticed. Izayoi tried to stand, stumbling a bit over the heavy hems of her kimono. Her head spun and she would have collapsed if he hadn't caught her. She was tingling all over, throbbing almost with some hidden fire in her blood.

He tilted her face up, a claw tracing the markings on her cheeks. She saw amusement in his smile, and contempt as she shuddered involuntarily at his caress. And in his eyes she saw a dark, seething lust that had nothing to do with who she was and everything to do with who he wanted her to be.

"Almost perfect," he said again, his voice no more than a growl. Hard fingers gripped her chin, his breath like a furnace as he moved to kiss her. She could see his fangs glint, his golden eyes stained with crimson desire. And in the back of her mind, she saw a vision of what he wanted.

A silver lady who shone brighter than the stars, her hair like snow and a face so beautiful even poets could never do justice to her. She suddenly yearned to be near this woman, to hear her voice and feel the touch of her hand. Desire flooded her and Izayoi cried out, clinging to him helplessly.

"Tonight," he whispered, his lips brushing hers. "Pretend to be her."


	6. Chapter 6

**Hate 06**

Her head was still spinning and she was much too dizzy for hate. Izayoi knew that she'd been drugged, entranced perhaps, by the thick incense that still hung in the air. She could taste it in the back of her throat, exotic and fell, like the taste of cloves and cedar. It clung to her hair, her bare skin, and continued to affect her tired body.

She awoke in pile of silk. The many layers of the priceless kimono had been shredded, torn apart by a demon's violent desires. Desires that had been exacted from her body and she started to shake as memories of the night came rushing in. She didn't want to look at herself, but with a will born of necessity, she moved aside the ravaged silk and caught her breath when she saw what he'd done to her body.

Scratches down her chest and ribs, the soft flesh of her inner thighs. Grimacing, she slipped her hand between her legs and was unsurprised when her fingers encountered crusted blood. Anger…old anger and fresh…threatened to overwhelm her. For the first time since she'd been taken, since she'd been sold, since she'd violated right down to the core of her soul…

She would rather _die_ than endure him any more!

"Monster," she whispered.

"Yes," his dark voice answered.

Izayoi shuddered, not surprised to see him standing over her. He smiled affectionately. "You please me…very much."

She scrambled to her feet. "You sicken me," she said, fury and hatred glinting like coals in her eyes.

"Do I?"

He reached for her and she flinched away, not wanting his hands, his claws to ever touch her again. She staggered, suddenly weak and wanting to retch at his feet. The air around her trembled and thickened, surging over her. She couldn't breathe; the horror was too great, too absolute.

She had to make him kill her…otherwise there was no escape.

"What are you, to do this to me?" Izayoi gasped, the words feeling like molten lead in her throat. She glanced down at her ravaged body and slowly touched the welts with her shaking hands. It hurt and she could feel every bruise, every raw scratch where the skin had split and left behind a ribbon of blood.

He closed the distance between them with a single, swift step and before Izayoi could move, his arms were around her. Pulling her close, his hands felt impossibly warm and strong, holding her and she cried out as that warmth flashed over her body like a storm.

"Still hate me, little girl?" he murmured, pressing his lips against her ear.

His fingers slid over her skin, leaving a trail of desire in their wake. Izayoi whimpered, closing her eyes as helpless pleasure spread outward from the pit of her belly. He was doing something to her, twisting her response, draining it from her like poisoned nectar. She clung to him when her legs became too weak for her to stand and shivered when he slipped his fingers between her legs.

Darkness fell over her then, spiraling downward, taking root in the earth itself. Shimmering waves played her nerves, coaxing music in long, slow pulses until she suddenly thrashed and shrieked. Tears streaked her face as he gently lowered her to the floor. Izayoi clutched her arms around her body, rocking as she wept softly.

"Look at me, little girl."

She obeyed, unable to do anything else.

The demon drew a sword and she caught her breath. Her eyes glistened with hope while his only regarded her with an abstract pity. Izayoi licked her lips, waiting for the blow. She could taste it, this freedom at the end of his blade and let out her breath in a grateful sigh.

But he only rested her edge against her forehead and stared down at her, watching with a remote expression as the bruises and scratched faded from her skin. Suddenly absent of pain, she had nothing left but shame…and hatred.

"Do as you're told," he murmured, turning away. "Don't defy me, don't question me, and do not resist."

"Why?" Her voice was bitter as bile, sour and burning in her belly. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"I am a demon," he said, and she tasted his bitterness on her own tongue. "It is all I know how to be."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Heyyyy…long time no update. What can I say, I'm a busy girl. But I haven't given up on this one yet.**

Hate 07

Darkness surrounded her, enveloped her, and became her. As the weeks wore on, Izayoi's body began to change, and like the child within her womb, her hatred had no choice except to grow. It pained her, left her wracked with nausea for most of the hours and too exhausted to sleep. She told herself that he had lied; that it was not a baby he'd planted deep inside her body.

It was a demon…and therefore it must be every bit as malignant as its father.

And if this demon were also half human, it would be born as weak and corrupted with hatred as its mother.

After that night, he stopped touching her, for which she was grateful. However, he kept her close to him, within the walls of his own tent and within easy reach. At night she would curl as small as her burgeoning body would allow, fearful of the demon that slept fitfully and rarely at all.

The army moved often now, rarely camping for longer than a night, always on the move. Izayoi grew even more exhausted, her face pale and thin. She was kept relatively comfortable, the youkai lord's favorite pet, and spent her evenings with downcast eyes and a burning, silent hatred as her only companion.

Save one…the dragon was the only one that cared to speak to her.

Izayoi did not often answer him with words of her own, and certainly did not think of him as a friend. She understood that Ryuukossei was there at her lord's request, to watch over her, or perhaps to make sure that she didn't go mad from fear of the unknown. He informed her when the army was about to move, or about to make war, or simply asked if she needed anything.

"Why?" she murmured, fingers twisting together like pale and angry snakes. "I need to know why he's doing this to me."

"I can't tell you that," the dragon said quietly. "You shouldn't ask."

"But it's my body," Izayoi said, her voice breaking. She pressed her palms against her swollen belly and winced. Her shoulders shook as she worked to keep the sobs from starting, not wanting to show weakness to this demon, this dragon that was not her friend. He was just another prisoner, and they shared their mutual hatred like a warm cup of wine between strangers.

She didn't ask Ryuukossei why he'd been killed the first time, or why their dark master had brought him back in servitude. It was too intimate a question, and Izayoi wanted nothing intimate between herself and another youkai.

She'd had about as much intimacy as she could stand.

"He doesn't take you anymore," Ryuukossei said quietly. "Not since the night you conceived, not since the night when…he saw you as someone else."

Curiosity was the bane of her hatred, and even in defeat and despair her mind turned circles and wanted answers. She wasn't used to thinking this much about her circumstances. Since she'd been enslaved, first by soldiers and then sold to a brothel, there had always been someone who ruled over her existence.

Passive obedience was the bread of her survival and now, no longer asked to submit to his desires; Izayoi found herself at a loss to determine what was wanted from her.

"Who was she?" she ventured to ask the dragon, not expecting an answer. "Who was she to him, that silver lady?"

Ryuukossei glanced away. "It does not concern you."

"Did he love her?"

The dragon stayed silent, his long hair hanging in his face like a veil, but she could see his jaw clench with a grimace of pain. Izayoi crept towards him until she was kneeling at his feet. Tentatively, she reached out with her pale fingers and brushed his sleeve, startling Ryuukossei into looking at her. His dark eyes were like pools of pain, simmering with the banked flames of hatred.

She should know such an expression, she'd worn it often enough herself.

"Did you love her?" she whispered. A shudder ran through him and she caught her breath, tasting secrets in his silence until he reached out and touched her cheek with fingers cold as ice.

"Such was my mistake," he said, each word sounding like bitterness on his lips. "In the end, he forced me to betray her."

"Did…did he kill her?" Izayoi needed to know. "She was his enemy?"

"She was his wife."

"As a matter of fact," a deep voice drawled, startling both Izayoi and Ryuukossei with its menace, "she is still my wife."

Looming over them with a darkness that seemed so absolute it felt like a physical force, the Inu no Taishou entered the tent. Behind him, several of his most trusted lieutenants glared down at them, their eyes lit with malice. Izayoi felt Ryuukossei's fingers slide from her cheek as he dropped to his knees and bowed to his lord.

"Forgive me," he husked, staring at the ground. "For speaking of what I should not."

Smiling unpleasantly, the Inu no Taishou twitched his fingers at his dragon. "Take him," he said to the men standing nearest to him. "Make sure he regrets his loose tongue, but take care not to let him die…this time."

Izayoi couldn't move, she was caught by her own fear and distress, and would have started screaming right then if she hadn't already learned many times that it was pointless to beg. Instead she trembled when he came closer and felt hard fingers stroke her hair.

"As for you, my sweet girl," he said, his words brushing over her skin like the caress of a fallen lover, "tonight you will learn why you were so foolish to make me angry." He stooped close and touched her cheek with his lips, right where Ryuukossei's fingers had rested.

"You will do your best to make me forget what you heard."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Anyone confused yet? This story is only gonna get darker from here on in and it was already pretty damn dark. This is not a love story between Inutaisho and Izayoi, so if that's what you're hoping for, you might want to bail. For the rest of you twisted people…keep reading. And I would appreciate any honest feedback as well, just to see if this is going where I want it to go.**

Hate 08

Amid the harsh voices and laughter of a dozen or more demons, Izayoi found that she was, for once, too afraid to hate. At first she'd been sure she was to be beaten, but he made no move to punish her. She didn't know if it was what he intended, only for later, or if he only wished for her to have sufficient time to dread. But as the hours wore on, she became so uncomfortable that she could barely keep herself from crying.

Tonight he met with his men, his lieutenants and trusted commanders, discussing the direction their army might take in the morning. She learned that there had been another bloody battle, and that the army was celebrating their victories. As a reward, their general had invited his favorites to his tent, to drink and feast, and entertain each other with rude jests and singularly cruel stories of brutal plunder.

The tent was large and the back partitions had been taken down to extend the length. The dog lord sat at one end of the tent, his back to the guarded wall, and his men lined the sides facing each other. The smells of alcohol and roasted meat filled the air, along with the thick smoke from guttering lamps. The rough wicks made the flames lurch and blaze unexpectedly, casting horrific shadows and making faces appear as sepulchral masks.

Izayoi was absolutely terrified.

She was forced to sit a few feet in front of him, open to the leering eyes of all. Exposed, her clothing felt too thin and she felt the demon gazes like a pure violation of her flesh. Sit still, he'd whispered as he'd made her kneel and stroked her hair away from her face.

Keep still, keep silent…it had been her mantra for survival. But now, she could hardly control herself, every muscle rigid with tension, desperate with the desire to flee. Her thighs ached and her toes had gone numb, but she practiced stillness just as she'd practiced hatred, and tempered herself in its fire.

She closed her eyes and let the voices wash over her. If she didn't listen, the sounds they made would fade into the background. Behind her eyelids, she could tell herself it was all a dream, a horrible dream that had become reality, but still on a dream and if she might wake…

"There's a human village not far from here, my lord. Some of the men were saying that they could do with a little distraction."

Dark chuckles filled her ears and Izayoi clenched her fists. Suddenly her mind was seething with thoughts of her family's slaughter, picturing innocent peasants falling under this army's idea of "distractions."

"How about it, my lord? Not all of us are so lucky as to have such a pretty little pet as yourself. Men get randy after so much fightin', my lord."

Izayoi's lips twisted, biting back a scream. Torture…rape…defilement…she'd had enough! There was nothing she could do, nothing that could stop them, stop him. All she could do was lie helplessly and cry, wondering when her turn would come or when he'd tire of her and throw her like a piece of meat to his _dogs_…

"No."

"But, my lord…"

"I said no. Leave the village be."

Groans of disappointment surrounded her and Izayoi opened her eyes. He'd said no? They wouldn't ravage that village? Relief washed through her body and without realizing it, she let a tiny sigh slip past her lips.

"Of course," his deep voice said, cold as ice, "we could all do with some diversion and my pretty pet here might provide it."

Forgetting stillness, she twisted to face him, her palms already damp with sweat. The gaze he turned on her was chilling, emotionless and tinged with a hint of sadism. "You'll do as you're told, won't you, my lovely?"

Her eyes tracked his finger as he lazily gestured to a youkai nearest him. "You, Kurasawa," he said, his voice curling around her like a vice. "Entertain the lady for us. She seemed to prefer our dragon friend, but with a little persuasion, might learn to enjoy your attention as well."

She dragged her gaze to the youkai, seeing high cheekbones and a wide grin with razor-sharp teeth. Izayoi had a brief moment to let the horror seep into her skin. Just like they'd said, just like she'd feared…and everything she'd endured had been for _nothing!_

Unconsciously, her hand curved over her swollen belly. Was he trying to fool her, terrify her into submission? Golden eyes brushed over her and a glint of anger surfaced within the icy calm. Although his expression was only that of boredom or cruel amusement, she suddenly felt, like a spear in her chest, the demon's seething jealousy.

Jealousy that she had somehow provoked…

"_Did you love her?"_

"_Such was my mistake_."

Noise swelled around her. The gathered youkai laughed and called out as Kurasawa stood up and swaggered to her side. Izayoi raised her chin and took no notice of him. Instead she met the dog general's eyes and slowly mouthed one word.

_No_.

"Come on, lass," Kurasawa murmured as he knelt beside her and started to stroke her hair. "No need to make this difficult for me, you'll only suffer for it."

Quick as a flash, her small hand shot out, bearing her tiny knife. She plunged in into the man's thigh and pulled down with all her strength. Blood gushed over her fingers; her ears rang with his scream. Then she scrambled away, leaving her blade in his flesh and flung herself at her master's feet.

Kurasawa howled with outrage, the men around him either shocked to silence at her treachery or already laughing at her foolish boldness. Now they'd all tear her apart in turns, it seemed. While the great lord watched and paid no heed to her death or that of his unborn child.

Unafraid, she lifted her chin and faced him, the blood of Kurasawa still staining her hands. "I refuse," she said, her voice quiet, but hard as small pebbles of granite. "I will not let him touch me, my lord."

His eyebrow lifted and the Inu no Taisho smirked at her. "Disobedient," he said, throwing the threat at her like a feather. "You want to die, little girl?"

Izayoi shook her head.

"Then what do you want?" His voice sounded bored and she saw his gaze flicker in reflection of hidden jealousy and…hatred.

"I want you," she said, whispering the words like a promise. He looked confused when she crept forward; her stained hands on his thighs, until she straddled him while behind her chaos and fury were building. She hadn't attacked without a plan, a desperate one, and the kind that destroys the last shred of hope in a heart.

"I won't let another man touch me," she whispered in a sensual voice she'd never heard herself use. "Your hands, your mouth, your body inside of mine…I need them."

Doubt glittered in his eyes, diamond-hard and ruthless. Somehow with her tiny blade of lies, she stabbed him somewhere raw inside his soul. He knew it too, knew that her hot eyes and soft flesh were every bit as false as the words she uttered.

Only…he needed them…and would need her too if she could salve the blistered sore within his soul.

"Say it," he breathed, his lips brushing hers. She tasted blood on his breath and felt the heady intoxication again pulse within her body. His desire…her despair. His need…her loathing. His anguish…her salvation.

"Say it." He was pleading with her now and Izayoi head spun with hatred and…strangely enough…pity.

"I love you."

oOo

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	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Really, even tho I write stuff like this, I'm actually a very happy person in RL. Really.**

**Hate 09**

Once she was a girl, a daughter born to a respected family. Once she was a child, innocent and free of all things shameful. And once she might have loved, embraced a husband with blushing cheeks, shy eyes and eager lips. She might have had children; grandchildren even, and filled her days with gentle laugher and the warmth of a loving family.

He'd stolen that from her. And she hated him for it.

Izayoi no longer remembered that it wasn't he who had murdered her family. When she closed her eyes, she saw his soldiers burning the house where she'd been born. She saw them strike down her family, gut her little brothers, then defile her mother's body even after her death.

And she saw herself dragged by _him_ to the courtyard. The faceless man who'd assaulted her first became _him_, the others that followed became _him_, and every man who'd laughed as he dirtied her with his seed or smirked at her cries when she'd begged him _please, stop!…_they were all _him!_

She knew she was losing her mind by now…she just didn't care anymore.

For the longest time, all she'd had left was her hatred. She nursed it at her breast like a child; she'd tried to warm herself beside its cold flame. It was the only thing that fed her when she was starving, licked the wounds that were still bleeding inside. But it was a lonely companion, never offering comfort with its sharp-edge embrace, only a bitter drink like vinegar in wine while she remained as parched and dry as sand itself.

Only now, hatred had company…a mistress in fact.

Pretending to love him, pretending that she desired his touch…had been excruciating for her. Just the same, he taught her how to lead him, how to sigh and moan appreciatively. It was the mask he desired her to wear, and in desperation she'd let it become her naked face. The gasps and endearments she uttered when he rode her were salt in her wounds, but her voice did not always cry false in his ears.

She couldn't say that he'd become suddenly gentle, it wasn't in his nature. But now he pursued her body with pleasure and her body found this to be a welcome change of circumstances. What Izayoi couldn't deny was that this war-like youkai, this demon of the battlefield and nightmares, knew enough of a woman's body to make it weep for his touch.

He knew the secrets that she'd never had a chance to learn, he knew the places on her skin that had no resistance. Murmuring dark promises, he spread her thighs to probe skillfully, tasting her until her body melted on his tongue. She clawed at his hair, shoved herself into his mouth with fierce abandon, grinding her hips when he teased and nibbled her lazily. With fingers and lips, he coaxed her to pleasure, made her wanton and shameless enough to beg him to take her again.

The size of him had always been painful to her, the swiftness of entry and hard pounding of flesh a brutal torment. Now he slid her over him like an oiled sheath upon a silken blade, one hand gripping the back of her thigh, the other stretched out to cup the side of her face. He'd take her silently then, compelling her to look into his burning eyes, watching closely until her face darkened and she screamed her climax loud enough for every youkai in his camp to hear.

Afterwards she was always filled with disgust. Held tightly in his arms, his sweat drying on her skin, she loathed him all the more for making her come.

Angry as she always was, Izayoi had lost touch with her fear.

She knew it was so when one morning she left his tent alone, the scent of him like a musky shroud cast over her body. The man at guard gave her a knowing smirk and she dealt him a hot glare of hatred. Surprisingly, the leer faded and he dropped his eyes almost respectfully. She lifted her chin, trumping him with a disdainful sneer of her own before stalking away.

That's when she knew something had changed. As long as she didn't try to run away, she was free to go where she wished. The strong essence of their violent lord clung to her now, made them cautious and unwilling to challenge her. It was obvious he favored her…far more than he'd favored any other, far more than he'd favor any of them.

Their lives were his to cast away, with no more whim than that of an angry child. They'd greedily offer their loyalty, their love, to him and he gave them nothing more than promised. Bloodshed, warfare, and victory after vile victory…she alone was different. No longer just warm flesh to sate his desires, he pleasured her until she screamed…and hearing it made their loins throb and their stomachs twist with envy.

Izayoi smiled to herself and walked among them, a lone human and fearless. She wore her bright kimono tied firmly beneath her breasts so that they would notice her ripening belly. She let the layers of fabric slide down to show her milk-white shoulders and the livid marks of their master's passion. Her round breasts bounced temptingly when she walked, the sway of her hips begged them to stare. She wanted them to stare.

_Touch me and he'll tear you apart!_

It made her giddy, this sudden power where before her life had been defined by weakness and helpless hatred. Her loathing bloomed around her like an aura of defiance, daring them to touch the untouchable. His jealousy and sexual possessiveness became her armor in the face of so many monsters.

As long as she wore this mask, the illusion of love, he would hold her above all others and they had no choice but to bow at her feet. Still…she knew it couldn't last for long. He'd grow bored with her when her passion no longer tasted fresh to him. Eventually she'd be cast aside, perhaps given as spoils to one of these men who watched her with hot eyes. Her stomach churned at the thought and Izayoi's breathing grew harsh as she tried to contain the panic.

Yes, it was a very dangerous game she played with him. One she had no illusions about surviving. But she wanted to live long enough to bear his son, she wanted to see his face when she held their newborn in her arms…and then throttled the life from the tiny body before he could stop her!

That would be her revenge. The pain and betrayal in his face when she screamed out her hatred, her disgust. Whatever had made it so important to him that she bear his offspring, she would crush it with both hands.

Izayoi laughed darkly to herself, ignoring the pensive faces of nervous youkai around her. Whatever else she was, she was becoming something dangerous in their midst.

Their general's mad concubine and captive lover. A woman insane and reeling between hatred and lust, death and desire. She might even bring about his downfall, his defeat where he had always been victorious. Most of them shuddered at the thought and kept their distance as if the lightest touch of her finger might tip the balance.

Save for one, who watched his father's toy with calculating eyes. And planned ahead for the inevitable future when power would shift into his hands with the passing on of a certain sword.

oOo

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